


The Stablehand

by gutbub



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 12:29:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22356280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutbub/pseuds/gutbub
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier keep crossing paths with the same stablehand... Everywhere. It's getting concerning.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me while I was mucking stalls, and I started writing it while sitting on a haybale... This is basically just an excuse to write about horses tbh. I just wanna say that I love horses so much, and I don't know much, but what I do know is... Horses

Geralt frowned as he handed Roach's reins to the stableboy, he would have sworn that the young man was the same one at the last stable, but that would be impossible. The young man beamed up at him with a delighted smile, "She'll get the best care in the world! I guarantee it!"  
Geralt stared at the man's face, committing it to memory. The black, flat hair, mixed with hay, the slight lines on his forehead, his black brows, his surprisingly blue eyes and pale complexion turned pink due to the cold. Geralt committed every wrinkle and spot to memory. The crude embroidery on his clothing depicting horses. The young man shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, "I'm the best stablehand this side of the continent. She is in the best hands that will ever care for her." He assured Geralt earnestly.  
Geralt took in his scent, barely able to smell the human under the scent of hay and horse and leather, there was a slight twinge of fear to it, but not the amount that most humans had.  
Geralt grunted and headed towards the inn, casting a glance over his shoulder to see the man stroking Roach's face and muttering soft nothings.  
The stablehand lead Roach into the stable where a stall had been prepared, the bedding fresh and deep, the water troughs scrubbed and filled with water, a massive pile of hay in the far corner. He untacked the horse with effortless speed, placing the saddle on a rack, the saddle pad on top of that, and then the girth. He unbridled Roach, scratching her ears as he did so. Roach willingly dropped the bit into his waiting hand, and turned to dig into the hay. "Alright Roach, let's take care of you."  
He walked to the far end of the stable grabbing all manner of grooming supplies, a curry, a stiff bristled brush, a soft bristled brush, and a hoof pick. He returned to the chestnut mare, heart singing as he unceremoniously dumped the grooming supplies in a corner. He grabbed the curry and started moving it in firm circular motions over the body of the horse. When he reached her hips, she tightened her gut and tucked in her tail. "Oh no…you're sore…" he groaned, "I'll get you a linament, relax those hard working muscles of yours."  
He disappeared in the search of hot water, and 15 minutes later he returned with a steaming bucket. He fished around in his pockets pulling out all sorts of greenery, carefully selecting various plants that he had picked that day. He deposited the chosen plants into the water and soon the barn smelled of yarrow and mint. He dipped a rag into the warm herbal water and carefully rubbed it on the sore spots on Roach's back. He then ran his hands down her legs, frowning at the warmth right over her cornet band on the left hind, "That's not good… you need to soak that hoof in salt water, you'll be no good to the witcher if you get an abscess. I don't have much salt, but it'll have to do." He vanished into the hay loft, and came back with a small leather pouch, he dumped the salt into the herbal water and lugged the bucked next to Roach's hind end.  
"Don't kick me or the bucket, okay?" He faced the opposite direction of the horse and ran his hand down her hind leg, pinching the fetlock and pulling up, Roach willingly offered her leg and he carefully moved the bucket with his foot until it was under her hoof, and he gently set her hoof into the warm salt water.  
"You have to keep that hoof in there for about half an hour, alright?" He stood back up and looked at the relaxed mare, her ears flopping slightly to the side as she chewed on her hay. He picked the curry back up, and was delighted when she no longer protested her sore spots. Soon the whole body was curried, and he switched to the stiff bristled brush, the dust that the curry brought to the surface being swept away with deft strokes. Roach let out a soft grunt, "I know! You've probably not had a grooming like this for a long time. Other stablehands don't really care about horses, they just want to do the bare minimum and go home. But they don't realize just how important horses are to civilization! Honestly, we would be nothing without horses and magic. You know, there's a story in my family about the first horse that worked with humans, do you want to hear it?"  
Roach flicked back an ear, and the stablehand delighted,"Wonderful! Many, many centuries ago, before the union of our species, there was a girl who saw the beauty of the horse, she saw their speed, their strength, their gentleness. She was scorned by her peers, but whenever a band of wild horses went by, it made her heart leap. She eventually realized that being with humans was not where she belonged. So, once she hit maturity, she left to the steppes, grassy and harsh, she waited for the horses to come to her, and they did. Inquisitive at the small human that had entered their lives. She worked hard to understand them, forgetting her human tongue and eventually she became part of the herd. They accepted her as one of their own, and one day she sat on the back of one. She did not bolt, she did not buck, she did not rear. She merely flicked an ear back. Soon the girl learned how to guide the horse with pressure from her legs, a shift of weight here, a grip of the mane there. She and the horses were truly as one. She started to wonder if her people would take her back, if she could communicate with horses. Eventually the desire for what would never be became overwhelming and she scrambled aboard the lead mare. Her intents were pure, but the results… terrible." Roach gave a soft huff as if a similar take was told by horses to one another.  
He picked up the soft bristled brush and softly groomed her face, "Her people, when they saw what she did with time and patience decided to take shortcuts. They developed bits made of leather and rope, harsh things that cut into the tongues of the horses they forced themselves upon. They did not bother to learn the language of the horses, to see their discomfort, their affection. They used brute force and turned your equine ancestors into broken facsimiles of what they once were. Then with the mobility of the horse came trade, sure people traded before, but now they could trade the entire world over. Then… came greed and jealousy. Terrible, horrible things that lead to war and kingdoms. And here we are. Forever entwined in each other's history, whether for better or worse."  
He gave a sigh as he picked up her hoof, removing it from the bucket, wiping the dampness off of her leg.  
"I wish that you could tell me your story, the stories your dam told you as a foal, how you came to be the mount of a witcher… such stories do not do well to be forgotten." He gathered his supplies and headed out the stall door, dumping the water outside of the stable.  
He came back with a steaming bucket of branmash, the grains warm and swollen, soft and easy to eat for a hard working horse. He placed the bucket next to the hay and Roach without hesitation buried her muzzle into it. "There's some willow in there which should help with your soreness, but goodnight Roach, I hope you sleep well." He climbed up the ladder to the hay loft. "I'll bring you grain in the morning!" He curled up in the hay, grinning as the soft noises of the horses below him lulled him to sleep.

He awoke before dawn, eyes still heavy with sleep as he scrambled down the ladder, stumbling over himself in the darkness. He approached Roach's stall, her blaze the only thing visible in the dark half light. He grinned at her welcoming nicker, "I know! Grain! It's coming! Also… I may have acquired a slight treat or two…"  
He held out two carrots, and Roach stretched out her neck, mouthing around the carrots until she had a firm grip on them and yanked them out of the stablehands hands. "Oh that's just rude! But you do weigh a good ten times me, so I'll let it slide."  
He rummaged in the feed room, gathering up morning grain, the other horses getting impatient, the low nickers and sudden bangs telling everyone that it's feeding time. Roach stood patiently in her stall. He struggled with the mountain of buckets in his arms, putting them into each horses feeding trough. He soon reached Roach and gave her a scratch on the neck as he passed by, dumping her grain into the trough with a beautiful sound. He continued on, saying hello to various horses and being followed by the barn cats, demanding his attention as they threatened to trip him. 

As the sun rose so did Geralt of Rivia, he kicked the bed of his travelling companion, Jaskier, to wake him up. Jaskier sat upright with a start, "Oh, it's morning? Ughh." He dramatically flopped back on the bed gazing up at the ceiling.  
"Come on, we're burning daylight." Geralt was already packing up meager belongings.  
"Ugh okay, I'm getting up." Jaskier hated mornings more than anything else, leaving the warmth of a comfortable bed, but he consoled himself in the comfort that they were on an adventure, one that he could pen ballads about for ages. Eventually the two were ready to depart and they headed out to the stable to collect Roach.  
Geralt entered the stable, his broad body taking up most of the doorway, and headed down the row of stalls to his red mare. He gave a hum of approval seeing her thick bedding and well groomed coat. He glanced at the tack that had been cleaned and oiled very very recently, and looked around for the stablehand. Seeing and hearing no one but himself, Jaskier, and the horses he sighed and began to tack up Roach, and within a few minutes they were on their way to the next town, seeking trouble wherever it might go. 

The stable hand watched Roach leave from the hayloft, he carefully stepped on the hay coated floor, heading to the ladder. He scrambled down it, and ran through the stable and down an alleyway to a small hidden pasture where a chunky black and white piebald pony waited.  
"Hey Arthur! I saw your girlfriend today! She's going to a town about ten miles from here, to investigate some strange creature or another. Let's go!"  
He swung open the gate and Arthur came trotting out, not a single rope on him. They walked next to each other through the town and down the road, the stable hand staring intently at the ground following the unique hoofprints of Roach. Arthur shook his head and snorted, long mane twisting into different colors in the early morning light.  
"Hey, at least it's not thirty miles, and I promise I'll bring you some really good stuff tonight okay?"  
Arthur gave a decisive snort and took off cantering down the forest lined road. "Hey! That's not fair! You have four feet, I only have two!" 

Getting the stablehand to give up his evening chores was incredibly easy, all he had to do was say that he would do all the work, and the other stablehand would still get his wages. Of course, not the best deal for him… but he got to take care of her. He waited anxiously for the Witcher and his companions to arrive, the other horses already fed, groomed, and bedded down. The stablehand knew they had taken a detour, saw where Roach's hoofprints veered off into the woods, but he figured that whatever issue they had faced that they would have arrived by now. Then finally, as the last light from the sun faded from view, two humans and a red horse walked to the stable.  
The stablehand scrambled to attention, his heart beating against his ribcage saying "let me care, let me love, let me live".  
Geralt scowled as he saw the stablehand. It was the same one, somehow always in the same place as them, that could not just be coincidence. Jaskier was going on about some maiden fair he had seen from the road as Geralt marched up to the stablehand.  
"Who are you?" He growled.  
The stablehand startled, "Oh, I'm Filip!" He grinned, offering his hand to shake, "And you are?"  
Geralt growled, "Why are you following us?"  
Jaskier looked between the stablehand and Geralt, confusion etched into his face.  
"Following? Uh, can't say that I've been following you…" Filip struggled to find a way out of this conundrum.  
"How is it then, that you were the stablehand at the last inn we were at, and now you're here?"  
"Ahh you must have met my cousin… family resemblance and all that…"  
"Don't lie." Geralt invaded the stablehands space.  
"Okay okay, but if you kill me, can I please give Roach this before you do so? And could you tell Arthur what happened? Although he'll probably just follow Roach all day long." Filip held out a small apple.  
"Why would you want to give Roach an apple as your last wish? And who is Arthur?" Jaskier's curiosity piqued.  
Filip looked down at the ground, kicking it with worn leather shoes, looking up as he spoke "Roach is one of the most beautiful, bravest horses I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Witcher mounts are rare these days, but the stories they could tell if someone only listened! I want to know her story, I want to give her the best care a human can give. And when she gets too old and too sore for this life, I want to be able to be there to give her the spoils she deserves."  
Jaskier squinted his eyes, "Are you in love with Roach?"  
"...I love all horses, but Roach is truly one of a kind."  
Gerakt looked down at the stablehand. "If I come across you again, I will kill you."  
"Okay… good to know, uh, do you still want Roach taken care of, or?" Filip put his head back to make eye contact with the Witcher.  
Wordlessly, Geralt thrust the reins into Filip's hands and walked away.  
Jaskier gave a wordless shrug at Filip and trotted after Geralt.  
Filip held the leather reins listlessly as he guided Roach into the stable, tears threatening to well up in his eyes as he tried to hold back sniffles. Roach nuzzled him gently, brown eyes wrinkled with concern. He began to untack her, and groom her, biting back choking sobs, before finally he gave in and clung to her neck, head buried in her mane, tears dripping on to the straw beneath them. Roach wrapped her head around him, the solid weight of it giving him comfort and with a final sniff he wiped his sleeve across his face and resolutely decided that he would ignore Geralt of Rivia's warning, but he would be more cautious as to not get caught.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bear attacks Roach while Geralt and Jaskier are on other business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know like most of the plants I mention are North American plants, and they do have some medicinal benefits but please don't take the info from here and go out into the woods and do "natural" medicine. I only know this info because I hang out with outfitters and herbalists and they're often willing to teach basic info.

The next day started bright and clear, Filip groaned as he woke up, curled next to a sleeping Arthur. The only downside of sleeping next to a horse that was laying down was their hooves and their weight. Something Filip quickly realized. "Oh come on buddy! You got me trapped, move your leg!"  
Arthur startled awake, instinctively jerking his legs, giving enough allowance for Filip to wiggle free. "Jeez Arthur, I think you might need to cut back on the carrots."  
Arthur gave a baleful look as he gathered his feet underneath him and lurched up.  
"Okay, I'm sorry, that was rude of me." Filip apologized as he straightened his clothing, dusting off bits of grass. Arthur snorted and put his head into the grass, tearing it softly.  
Filip walked to the border between the grass and forest and rummaged for wild rose hips and dandelion greens looking for anything edible that would relieve the stab of hunger in his gut. He grinned as he spotted the familiar leaves of winter huckleberry, stiff and smooth, small dark berries still good in spite of the recent frosts. He scrambled to reach them, pulling branches down to get the berries in reachable distance. Arthur watched him with pricked ears.  
Filip shoved the sweet berries into his mouth as quickly as he picked them, not caring about the bits of debris and insects that he swallowed with them. Arthur shoved his nose into Filip's shoulder, begging for a treat. Filip gave a dramatic groan, "Oh, alright, fine."  
He gave a handful of the berries to Arthur, who sniffed at them and then turned his nose up at the offered fruit, opting instead for the sugary grass at his feet.  
After a couple more handfuls of huckleberries Filip bounced over to Arthur, grabbing his thick mane. "Alright Arthur, you're leading today. Your sense of smell is far better than mine."  
He held out a bundle of hair from Roach's mane, giggling slightly as Arthur raised his upper lip and stretched out his nose, he then tucked his face into his chest and gave a snort before heading in an easterly direction. Filip followed behind running his hands through Arthur's thick tail working out knots and burrs as they followed the faint scent of the chestnut mare.  
They continued in such a manner until midday, when the sun reached its zenith. "Alright Arthur, break time!"  
Filip veered into the woods having spotted licorice fern sprouting from the moss growing thick on trees. He peeled back a section of moss, pulling out the roots of the licorice fern, he put a small piece in his mouth and made a slight face as the spice of it hit his tongue. Arthur contented himself with random clumps of tall grass, as Filip eyed the woods around him looking for anything else edible. He frowned as he spotted a pile of steaming scat, looking at it closely before he realized it was fresh bear scat. "Uh Arthur?" He looked around for his piebald companion and groaned as he realized that Arthur had hightailed it out of there.  
"Oh come on, we talked about this Arthur! You can't just leave me high and dry in a situation like this." Filip looked at the paw prints next to the bear scat and groaned as he realized that it was most likely a grizzly. "Okay, we go the opposite way that the bear is going…"  
Filip began walking, hoping that the bear wouldn't loop back, then a distant shrill whinny reached his ears.  
"Oh no." Filip grabbed a rock and bolted towards the panicked sound. "Arthur you absolute lug!" He cursed the piebald pony as he crashed through the underbrush snagging on brambles and sticks, stumbling over treacherous roots.  
Suddenly the woods broke with a clearing, the grass brown and knee high. The chestnut mare had her ears pinned wheeling her hind end at the bear that snapped at her heels, Arthur charged at the bear, striking it with his hooves and biting at it's neck. Filip stood stock still taking in the situation. The Witcher and his bard were nowhere to be seen, Filip fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a slingshot, he placed the rock in the sling and pulled back, waiting breathless for the perfect shot. "Arthur!" He shouted not wanting the horse to get in the way, and Arthur carefully danced around the bear, managing to tease it.  
Filip frowned as the perfect opening showed itself and he let the rock fly. It hurtled towards the bear, and struck it right between the eyes. The bear stumbled, momentarily dazed by the blow. Filip ran forward, towards the disoriented bear, pulling out a hoof pick as he did so. He would only have a few seconds to succeed and if he failed it would be the end of his short life. The bear pawed at its face as Filip reached it, and with decisive force he forced the hoof pick into the bears eye, giving a slight noise of disgust as he felt the orbital orb crack under the pressure. He kept pushing it as the bear roared in pain. As the bear tried to back away, he pulled out a small knife and began trying to hack at its throat through its thick fur, the bear swatted him away with a single blow, Filip hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him and his knife loosening from his grip. He scrambled to get his knife even as he struggled to breath. The bear's one good eye narrowed in on him as Arthur threw himself back into the fray, kicking and biting. Filip winced as he rolled his shoulder, he definitely had damaged a muscle, maybe more.  
The bear growled low and deep, frustrated that the easy meal it had expected turned out to be not so easy. The bear swatted at Arthur, just barely missing the tender tight ligaments of his lower leg as he leapt out of the way. Filip ran at the bear, jamming his knife into it's throat until the hilt blocked him from pushing any further. He twisted his knife and pulled it out, releasing a flood of blood. The bear gurgled as it's airway filled with blood and it staggered as if uncomprehending that death would come for it. Finally with a groan the bear collapsed dead from bloodloss.  
"Okay. Everyone okay?" Filip panted as he stared at the massive brown mass that had just seconds ago been alive. "I'm okay, I think."  
He approached Arthur and Roach who were nickering at each other like old pals. He ran his hands over Arthur's compact body checking for damage as the pony huffed. He frowned as he found a gash on the piebald chest. He scrambled through the grass looking for broadleaf plantain, picking handfuls as he panicked about the horses health. He crushed the leaves in his hand, releasing the healing juice of the plant and he patted it onto the gash even as Arthur pinned his ears at him. "I know, I know, it hurts." Other than the gash, Arthur seemed to be in good health and Filip turned his attention to Roach, immediately noting how she tenderly held her right front hoof.  
He ran his hands down her leg, frowning as he felt heat and swelling below her knee. "You pulled a tendon." He glanced at the trees spotting a willow that was thankfully close to them. He heard the slight murmur if a stream and grinned, "Roach, come on."  
He grabbed her leadrope and lead her to the stream making sure that her sore leg was in the deepest part of the water, he grabbed a few twigs from the willow and offered them to the red mare. She turned her face away.  
"Please eat this, I know it doesn't taste great, but it'll help with the pain." Roach reluctantly turned back to the willow and ate it.  
Filip reached up to run his hands over Roach's body to check for any other damage, letting out a strangled cry as his shoulder suddenly burned with agony and white light flashed in his eyes, he dropped to his knees, the adrenaline fleeing from him and pain taking it's place.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically Geralt and Jaskier find Filip and help him because they're big softies.

Geralt was coated with gore from his most recent fight, Jaskier bouncing behind him as he went on about the ferociousness of the monster Geralt had slain. He marched through the brush glad that the fight had been an easy one and the coin would be plenty. When suddenly the scent of fresh blood reached him, he stood still, Jaskier running into him, "What? Why'd we stop?" Jaskier asked.

"Stay here." Geralt commanded as he drew his sword and carefully approached the clearing they had left Roach in. He frowned as he saw his chestnut mare grazing next to a piebald pony, thick and stout with feathers on its legs. 

He saw the brown mass of the fallen bear and approached it, examining it and quickly realizing that it had not been killed by the horses. The scent of human blood became apparent, tracking this way and that through the grass. His eyes finally landed on the still form of that damned stableboy he had told to not follow them. 

"Jaskier? It's safe." He sheathed his sword and approached the boy. Jaskier came bounding into into the clearing, mouth agape at the sight of the bear. "Oh my. That's a bear."

Geralt kneeled next to Filip taking in his shallow breaths and examining the wound across his shoulder. Jaskier popped behind him, "Oh! It's that stablehand you said you would kill if we crossed paths again." 

Geralt merely grunted as Arthur came over, giving soft whickers. He shoved the piebald's head away as he spoke to Jaskier, "Go get the medicine kit." 

Jaskier immediately obliged, running over to Roach to dig through the saddle bags. He pulled out an assortment of supplies and ran back over to Geralt. "Wasn't sure what you needed so I brought it all." 

Geralt grabbed a rag, shoving it into Jaskier's hands, "Soak this in the stream and bring it back."

"So we're not killing the stablehand? Okay." Jaskier headed towards the stream as Geralt cursed his luck to somehow attract the stupidest humans on the Continent. Even with the scent of blood, the stablehand smelled more of horse than human, and Geralt wondered what ran through his veins to cause him to attack a bear in defense of a horse that wasn't even his.

"Here!" Jaskier held out the soaked rag, and Geralt carefully wiped blood away from the wound, thankful that the stablehand seemed to be out cold. With the blood away from the wound, he got a better picture of the damage the bear had done, viscera gleaming in the afternoon light. Jaskier gave a slight noise of disgust at the sight, as Geralt scrubbed the wound clean of dirt. He rummaged through the supplies, grabbing a vial of clear liquid that he poured on the wound.

Filip came to, pain coursing through his body, radiating from his shoulder and in half awake panic, he threw himself away from the pain, only to be grabbed and forceably held still. He let out a stream of curses, pain and panic guiding him to fight against the pain and the hands that held him. Geralt cursed, "Jaskier, hold his legs!"

Jaskier attempted to get near Filip's legs, finally grabbing them, and sitting on the back of his knees. And still Filip flailed attempting to spot the horses, not knowing what was happening. 

Arthur put his head next to Filip and gave a soft snort, as if to say, "Be calm, everything is okay." 

Filip stared at the pony, taking in his relaxed body language and slowly relaxed himself, knowing that if there was danger Arthur would tell him. He twisted his head around to meet the yellow eyes of the Witcher. 

"Oh no." He bemoaned his fate, only to kill a bear to be killed by a Witcher. He twisted further, and took in the dandy bard that sat on his legs, "Oh no." He said with almost breathless abandon. 

"Okay." He sighed, resigned to his fate of death. "I understand that you're a man of your word, so I won't begrudge you for doing what you said you would do, but could I ask one small favor? Please make sure that Arthur is never captured by man. It's his one fear in life, a few of his relatives wound up as pit ponies and he's terrified of a similar fate." The words poured out.

Geralt frowned, brow creasing.

"Oh! We're not going to kill you, you protected Roach!" Jaskier exclaimed. 

Filip looked between the open face of Jaskier and the unreadable face of Geralt, confusion clear in his eyes. 

"Hold still." Geralt commanded as he returned to tending to the wound, ignoring the slight gasps of pain from Filip as he finished cleaning and bandaging it. "There. You can camp with us for the night, but after that you best go on your own way." 

"Okay. That's agreeable." Filip groaned as he rolled his shoulder, the pain now a dull ache that would suddenly send stabs through his whole body. 

"Good job killing the bear." Geralt turned away, packing up the remaining supplies. 

"Ah, thanks! Arthur did most of the work, getting it tired." 

Jaskier stood up and offered a hand to Filip, which he took and shakily stood up. "And Arthur is this fine steed?"

" He's not a steed, he's a horse. He takes offense at being liked unto a domestic horse." Filip explained as Arthur pinned his ears at Jaskier. 

"But he's your horse? Right?" Jaskier frowned as he ignored Arthur's body language and rested a hand against his neck. 

"He doesn't want you touching him." Filip paused until Jaskier removed his hand from the piebald. "And he's not mine, he belongs to himself. I found him out on the moors two summers ago, struggling in quick mud. I helped him out and he's just kinda stuck around. I help him, he helps me, we're both free to part ways at any point." 

Jaskier grinned, "This would make a great ballad! The song of the spotted pony and his boy. It would be a spectacular hit!" He started humming a wordless tune, eyes dancing as he put words together.

Filip sighed as he watched Geralt butcher the bear, taking the choice meat from it's carcass. Arthur snorted in disapproval. "We'll camp further up stream, avoid any scavengers that come after the bear." Geralt grabbed Roach and started following the stream. Jaskier quickly behind him as they trudged along the stream bank. 

Filip sighed again, and rested his hand against Arthur's neck entangling his fingers in his mane. "Okay, let's do this." He slowly followed the trio thankful that they were breaking through the underbrush so he only had to follow their trail. 

After walking for about 45 minutes, Geralt decided they had found a suitable spot, Jaskier gave a noise of delight and turned around to see Filip leaning heavily on Arthur, feet dragging over the stones next to the stream. Jaskier darted back over to Filip and put his arm around his waist, taking his weight as he threw Filip's arm over his shoulder.

"I'm fine… almost there." Filip mumbled as he staggered next to Jaskier. 

"Yeah, I'm sure you are, stumbling this way and that." Jaskier was surprised by how little Filip weighed, as he helped him to the small clearing. 

Jaskier lowered Filip down next to a tree, leaning his good shoulder against it. "Stay here."

Filip gave a careless mock salute as Arthur nuzzled his knee. Jaskier rummaged in the woods looking for firewood as Geralt began setting up camp, arranging rocks for a fire. 

Filip mindlessly petted Arthur, thankful that his one companion hadn't departed from him.

After a while smoke rose from the fire, and soon the smell of stew followed with. Filip dozed lightly, the sound of the horses grazing, the soft melodies of the lute, and Jaskier's odd quips the only sounds breaking the seemingly silence of the woods. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cleaned four houses today and then mucked a stable and my body and my brain are just so tired rn 😭

Filip awoke with a start, as Jaskier shook his shoulder, "Hey, it's dinner time." He offered a bowl of bear stew. Filip eagerly took it and began downing the contents at a nearly impossible pace.

"Whoa, it's not a race you know." 

Filip stopped mid bite and looked up at Jaskier, and then back at the bowl, and back up at Jaskier. "Says you." He doesn't back in, the flavor of the stew barely touching his palate as he barely chewed.

Jaskier sat down next to Filip, slowly eating his own bowl of stew, "So, you can talk with horses or something?" 

Filip drank the last of the stew and sputtered at Jaskier's idea, "I wish I could talk with horses! Being able to exchange words, each one fully able of comprehending of the other, oh! What a marvelous world that would be! I merely talk to horses and I have a knack for understanding what they say back… sometimes I get it wrong though." 

Jaskier frowned, "What's Roach thinking?"

Filip looked towards the chestnut mare who had an ear flicked in their direction, "She's listening to us, but she doesn't really care about what we have to say. She's more interested in the field mouse that's trying to collect seeds from the grass." 

"There isn't a field mouse." Jaskier protested.

"Yes, there is." Geralt spoke up. 

Jaskier sputtered, "How did you know that??"

"Roach told me. She also told me that you sneak her treats when you think the Witcher isn't watching, but he is."

Geralt gave a barely audible chuckle.

"You just said that you don't talk with horses!"

"I don't. If you paid attention you'd be able to understand what they tell you. They tell you almost everything about themselves and the world around them through their body." Filip looked at his empty bowl, wondering if it would be impolite to ask for seconds.

Jaskier scoffed. 

"Okay… you know how trackers can read the woods? Tell stories of all that have passed through? How some people can look at the sky and tell the story of the coming weather? How people can read the plants around them and find water? That's what I do… but with horses." Filip attempted to explain only to be met by a skeptical expression. 

"Why though? Why learn to read horses in such a manner?"

"Because they're easier to read than humans and they never lie." Filip slowly got up, heading to the stream to rinse out the bowl. "They tell you exactly their opinion of you and you can either accept it or spend your life in denial about your character."

Jaskier followed Filip to the stream, rinsing his bowl in the clear water. "Can you judge other humans based on horses?"

Filip nodded as he stared at the water, "Yes, they tell me who is good and who is not, even if their actions do not." Filip looked up at the bank of the stream, eyeing the various plants, trying to see if there was anything of use for Arthur's gash. 

"What does Roach tell you about us?" Jaskier inquired.

Filip hummed softly as he mulled over whether to tell him or not, "Well, that's for her to tell you. Not me. I'm not a horse translator." 

Jaskier scoffed, "Oh come on, master of the horse tongue. I want to know Roach's opinion of me!"

Filip stopped and turned to face Jaskier in the eye, "Then learn her language." 

Jaskier sputtered, "I could never!"

"Yeah, not with that attitude." Filip picked a few leaves of broad leaf plantain and walked over to Arthur and checked the gash on his chest. The old plantain had dried and peeled off, Filip poked at the scabbed wound with scrutiny, before deciding that it looked acceptable and did not need anymore attention. "Arthur, don't you dare get proud flesh there. Because that'll be a bitch to deal with." 

Arthur snorted and lifted his head to chew chew on Filip's hair. "Oh come on, buddy. None of that now." Filip pushed Arthur's head away.

Geralt watched as he cleaned his swords, noting how relaxed Filip was around the horses, how he instinctively shrank into himself when another human came near, and then how he made himself bigger, as if he was afraid of being seen as small.

Soon the activity around the campsite quieted down, the horses bedding down under the trees, Geralt and Jaskier lying on their rolls next to the fire, and Filip curled up against Arthur.


End file.
